Chapter Eight

Fiona

I leaned against theporch railing, admiring the sunrise as a slight breeze ruffled my hair. I breathed in deeply the fresh ocean air. Wisps of cloud moved across the horizon, which was lit in brilliant hues of orange and gold. From my vantage point beside the beach, I watched a group of youths chase the tide while splashing each other with foamy surf.

My dragon senses discerned in the distance an unruly flock of seagulls erupting into a cacophony of squeals before diving atop a bubbling school of fish.

After living for so long underwater, I had forgotten the wondrous scents, sights, and sounds of the world above, a world I had not realized until now I'd sorely missed. For too long I'd denied myself, and my daughter, too much of life's pleasures, all because of one man, which was why I was even more determined to break the bond.

Though the thought of losing the connection to my bonded mate forever twisted a blade inside my heart, for the safety of my child, I had no choice. Duncan was a dragonslayer. He'd killed my mother. He could kill again.

And if anything ever happened to Safina, I would surely die of heartbreak.

The erratic rumble of Josef's cart could be heard from over a block away. One wooden wheel seemed to be smaller in size than the others, causing the old wagon to lean slightly to the side. The smaller wheel also made a sharper sound when striking the cobblestones.

Josef was much like the odd wheel. He was not like other mortals, yet he seemed to like cohabiting with them. I wondered if Safina and I would be able to live among mortals again. I had survived them by myself before but having Safina made concealing our powers even more difficult. Perhaps now that Safina was older, she'd find a way to adapt.

Mrs. Jenkens had set off for the hospital earlier, so I was relieved when she'd told me Josef would be accompanying me this morning. The strange sounds erupting beyond the neighboring streets unnerved me, and I was loathe to admit I was terrified of making my way through the sprawling town by myself. Worried Safina might accidentally expose our powers, I had already ordered her to wait for us inside the safety of Mrs. Jenkens's home. The door was to remain locked, and under no circumstances was Safina allowed to open it to anyone.

I could barely feel the tight pull at my soul, a dull ache in my chest. Duncan was still a long distance away. Safina was safe for now.

I smiled at the old man as his cart wobbled to a stop in front of the porch. "Good morrow, Josef."

"Good morning." He leaned forward and tipped a raggedy straw hat. "Did you sleep well?"

I averted my gaze. It would do no good to tell the speaker about my dream of Duncan. I'd already sensed some reluctance on his part to break the bond. "Somewhat," I murmured.

When I looked into the old man's eyes, I read the weariness in his gaze. My mother had told me that speakers had the gift of sight and deceiving them was nearly impossible.

Josef slowly stood and straightened his bony spine before climbing out of the wagon. He walked halfway up the tall porch steps and held out a hand. "I have come to escort you to the infirmary."

"Thank you, Josef." I allowed him to help me into the cart. I gasped as he hoisted me within a blink. Either he was surprisingly strong for an old man, or else he had stirred a gust of wind to aid him. I suspected it was the latter.

After I had smoothed out the wrinkles in my white gown, I looked up to see the speaker eyeing me intently.

"So you can heal the girl?" His question sounded more like an affirmation.

I shrugged. "I have not seen her, but I am sure I can."

The lines around the speaker's tired eyes darkened. "Your healing powers are strong then?"

"Aye, they are."

Josef turned and swept a hand at the cobblestone road, which was bustling with people. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "How will you explain to others what you have done?"

I leaned toward Josef before answering in a hushed tone. "We will simply say the girl has awakened from her slumber."

Josef's dark eyes clouded over. "What of children stricken with polio?" His voice cracked. "Can you heal them?"

The tension rolled off the speaker in waves. After reading his disheartening thoughts yesternight, I knew he was on the precipice of revealing even more troubling thoughts.

I arched a brow. "I have not heard of this polio."

"It is a terrible disease that leaves many crippled or worse. My grandson, Gabriel, was stricken with polio six winters past." He cast his gaze to the ground as a tear slipped down his weathered face. "I'd brought my family up north in search of a better life. Instead, we were met with more hardship and heartbreak. The disease killed my son and his wife."

I swallowed a knot of regret, knowing the speaker would ask me to perform the impossible. "I cannot bring humans back from the dead."

"I know." Josef wiped a stray tear with the back of his hand. "But what of my grandson? Can you help him walk?" His voice was laced with despair.

It was obvious Josef blamed himself for the death and infirmity of his loved ones. His healing powers had not been strong enough to save them.

"I suppose," I reluctantly answered, "but if he has lived this way for six years, how do I explain his recovery?"

Josef rubbed his scraggly beard, frowning. "I'm not sure."

I thought of the last village where Safina and I had dwelled. Duncan had given us a reprieve from the chase, and Safina and I had been able to live in one place for two seasons. Then the villagers had discovered our secret.

"I do not know the people of Galveston. If I heal him, will they mark me as a witch?"

When Josef averted his gaze, I knew he was reluctant to admit the truth.

"I will not tell them it was you who healed him."

I leaned forward, eyeing him intently. "What will you tell them, Josef?"

"I will think of something." He turned back to me with a pleading gaze. "Please, Mi Reina. I will help you break the bond with your mate. All I ask is that you heal Gabriel."

I groaned as an uncomfortable ache settled in my chest. No good had ever come from helping mortals. I feared this time would be no different.

* * *

Fiona

AFTER MRS. JENKENSbegged the nurse for privacy, I quickly unwound the bandage covering the girl's head. What I saw made my limbs turn to ice. Abby, whom Mrs. Jenkens had told me was actually a young woman of seventeen, reminded me much of my own daughter. Like Safina, Abby had pale skin, lush lips and high cheekbones. But whereas Safina had an abundance of wild red hair, Abby's luxurious mane was a warm chestnut.

I cringed when I saw the deep gash on the girl's forehead. I knew the child would not survive by any mortal means.

Magic was her last hope.

But what chance would I have if I healed the girl? What would a mob armed with powerful weapons do to us? I hesitated, my hand hovering over the girl's wound. Mrs. Jenkens was looking at me with watery, pleading eyes.

My breath hitched when the child murmured. I leaned over Abby, my dragon-touched senses attuned to the child's muffled whispers.

"He broke my heart, Mama."

I jerked away.

"What did she say?" Mrs. Jenkens's voice was shrill. She leaned over the other side of Abby's hospital bed.

"I-I can't tell what she's saying," I lied, though I understood the girl's suffering all too well. After the night I'd spent in Duncan's arms, I had contemplated the many ways in which I could end my life. But when I discovered I was carrying a child—our child—I had found the will to live. 'Twas then I realized that no man, not even a fated mate, was worth dying for. I resolved that Abby would learn the same lesson.

I settled my hands over the child's wound and willed my fires to work. Though it had been centuries since I'd unleashed such magic, my gift of healing came to me like second nature. The fire I breathed as a dragon could also be harvested in human form, although it transferred through my fingers and not my flaming breath. The heat emanated from my core, then the pulsating light spread through my extremities and warmed my hands.

I closed my eyes as light crept outward and transferred from my skin to Abby's. Mrs. Jenkens gasped but said nothing.

As the healing fires engulfed both the child and me, I prayed Mrs. Jenkens would honor her vow of silence.

* * *

Fiona

I AWOKE FROM A GROGGYslumber to the sound of gentle weeping. The exertion used during the healing, coupled with my lack of sleep the night before, had caused me to doze off in the stiff chair beside Abby's bed. When my eyes focused, I saw that Mrs. Jenkens was holding Abby against her bosom.

"Mama! Papa!" Abby sobbed against Mrs. Jenkens. "Where did they go?"

The old woman stroked Abby's cheek before kissing her forehead. "They are with the angels, my darling."

"I want to go back!" Her shriek died on a muffled sob.

Mrs. Jenkens shot me a heartfelt plea, as if I had the power to heal broken hearts, too. If only.

"No, dearest," the old woman cooed into the girl's ear. "You have so much life to live. So, so much."

"But I miss them."

Abby's whimper was nearly enough to shatter my heart completely. I tried to suppress the rising tide of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me. Though guilt had forced me to bury memories of my mother, an image of the dead queen, Duncan's spear protruding from her chest, flashed through my mind.

"I know you do," Mrs. Jenkens cried as she rocked the girl in her arms. "Just think of how much I'd miss you if you were gone."

Abby clutched her grandmother's back. "I'm sorry, Nana."

A wave of Abby's guilt washed over me, the force of it catching me by surprise. Perhaps the girl was sorry for trying to take her life. I only hoped she wouldn't attempt it again.

"Hush, dear." Mrs. Jenkens shushed her, stroking the girl's head. "It's okay now. Everything's okay."

After Abby's crying died down, she slowly pulled out of her grandmother's embrace. Despite the tears streaming down her face, the old woman wore a lopsided grin as she clutched one of Abby's slender hands in both of hers.

The girl looked around the room as if in a daze. The bloody bandage hung limply from one side of her head, exposing newly healed pink skin that bore only the faint trace of a jagged scar.

"What happened?" Abby asked.

"You fell from the pier," Mrs. Jenkens said, sniffling.

Abby pulled her hand free and traced the line across her forehead. "Did I?" She shrugged before abruptly tossing her legs over the side of the bed.

Mrs. Jenkens looked ready to have an apoplectic fit as she jumped up, waving her hands at her grandchild. "Lie back down, Abby."

I slowly rose, eyes trained on the girl. If the child fell and banged her skull a second time, how would we explain another healing?

Abby ignored her grandmother's entreaties as she stared at her bare feet and wiggled her toes.

When Abby looked back at her grandmother, I was struck by the wonderment in the child's eyes. "I was having the strangest dream. I was in heaven with my parents. We were crying happy tears." She flashed a thin smile before wiping moisture off her cheek. "They were kissing me and stroking my face. It was so beautiful and peaceful," she said in a dreamy voice before her eyes darkened. "And then this magnificent dragon with brilliant red scales poked her head out of the fog. She told me to come back. She said you needed me." Abby waved a shaky hand at her grandmother. "I didn't even get a chance to tell my parents goodbye."

When the girl broke on a moan, Mrs. Jenkens wrapped her in a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry," Mrs. Jenkens said through muffled cries.

Abby pulled away and looked at her grandmother with wide eyes. "Then there was this white light. It was so warm, and I swear I felt it all the way to the marrow of my bones." She pulled her reedy legs to her chest and wrapped herself in an embrace. "Then I woke up." She touched her temple with the tips of her fingers. "There was this haze in my head, but now that's gone."

"Oh, Abby!" Mrs. Jenkens crushed the girl to her ample bosom again.

"Please don't cry, Nana." The child pushed out of her grandmother's arms and turned to me, the faint lines between her eyebrows pinching together. "Who is she?"

Mrs. Jenkens broke into a wide grin. "This is Fiona. She is a healer from the old country."

"A healer?" Abby gasped. "Did she heal me?"

I swallowed before shooting Mrs. Jenkens a warning look. I didn't trust this girl to guard my secret. Mrs. Jenkens, who'd looked ready to spill her very soul a moment earlier, pressed her lips together and averted her gaze.

A look of annoyance crossed Abby's features as she glared first at her grandmother and then at me. "You healed me, didn't you? I remember your hands on me." Her jaw fell open as recognition flashed in her features. "Your eyes." She pointed a shaky finger at me. "There is something so familiar about them. How did you do it? Shouldn't I have died when I fell?"

I smiled serenely at the girl as I reminded myself 'twould do no good to tell this child the truth. "All that matters is that you are well now."

Abby crossed her arms. "Fine, but I will get to the bottom of this one way or another."

I stole a sideways glance at Mrs. Jenkens. "She is a keen child."

Mrs. Jenkens shook her head, snickering. "Too smart for her own good, I'm afraid."

I leaned toward Abby, eyeing her forehead. "How do you feel?" I lightly traced the bump.

The wound had healed nicely. In a few more days, the girl's scar would disappear.

Abby's bottom lip turned down. "I don't want to rest in this bed any longer." She kicked the side of the bed like a petulant child.

Heavens help us, I sensed this girl was wild. How had a woman like Mrs. Jenkens been able to control such a strong-willed youth? I repressed a shudder as I thought of Safina. My child had always been drawn to mischief. Hopefully, Safina's rebellious nature had ebbed with time.

Hopefully.

"But you must rest," Mrs. Jenkens said, her shrill voice rising with each syllable. "The doctor wishes to know you are well."

"I am well!" Abby jumped from the bed and stormed to a tall armoire across the room. She threw open the doors, revealing an empty shell. She turned to her grandmother and planted both hands on her hips, the hospital gown billowing around her small frame. "Where are my clothes?"

Mrs. Jenkens held out both palms. "Abby, please."

The wooden door creaked open and the nurse, dressed in a crisp, white gown poked her head inside.

"You there!" Abby extended a finger at the woman. "Fetch my clothes! I won't spend another moment staring at these drab walls. I am well, and I don't need to be here."

The nurse gawked at Abby.

"Come on! Get cracking!" Abby shooed the nurse out like she was a stray mongrel.

"I'll get Doctor Straw," the woman squeaked, slamming the door behind her.

There was a loud commotion coming from the hall. A strong male voice rose above the din, then all went silent.

The door swung open, and a tall, reedy man I presumed to be Dr. Straw entered the room. He was dressed in white breeches, shirt, and coat, and a black tie, belt, and shoes. His slicked-back dark hair clung to his scalp like a second skin. He had the oddest looking black mustache with tapered tips. I had noticed other village men had such mustaches as well, and I still hadn't grown accustomed to the look of them.

"Hello, Abby. I'm Doctor Straw." He flashed a thin smile, one I noticed contradicted the cold gleam in his dark eyes. "How do you feel?"

The girl stood her ground. "I want to go home."

Doctor Straw's smile widened, revealing even rows of pearly white teeth. "I know you do, child, but you suffered a terrible injury."

"Where?" Abby shot the doctor a smug look. "Show me this injury."

Scowling, he walked up to Abby in a few strides. When he pulled back a lock of her hair to examine the wound, his eyes bulged. "Amazing," he said through a breathy whisper. "Most of your scarring has healed." He turned toward Mrs. Jenkens with an accusatory glare. "How did this happen?"

The old woman merely shrugged, falling into her seat while nervously eyeing me.

Abby let out a short burst of laughter. "Maybe my injury wasn't that bad."

The look he shot Abby would have melted iron had Abby been a weakling.

Pride welled in my chest as the girl matched the doctor's glare with one of her own.

"I'm never wrong about such things," he said through a hiss.

"How much is it costing my nana to keep me here each day?" she spat. "Haven't you enough sick and infirm people to line your pockets?"

The doctor's skin paled, then flushed, finally turning a deep shade of crimson. "This is not about money, Abby. You need rest."

Abby shook her head. "I want to rest in my own bed. I want to smell my nana's apple pie and drink her sweet tea." She threw up both hands and stomped a foot. "I want to go home!"

Doctor Straw heaved a resonant sigh before casting a pleading gaze at Mrs. Jenkens. The old woman slouched in her seat and looked away.

He turned to Abby. "But here we have a staff of highly trained nurses and doctors."

Abby pointed at me. "She can take care of me."

My knees weakened when Dr. Straw turned his assessing gaze on me. I didn't need a scorned man to pay me any heed. As I stared at the cold gleam in his eyes, I knew a man like Dr. Straw could cause trouble.

"Who are you?" he asked.

I straightened my shoulders. I would not allow this man to intimidate me. "I am merely a visitor."

Abby snorted. "She knows more about medicine than any of you." Her penetrating gaze locked with mine. "And I remember it now, your hands on my skull." Abby's hand shot to her forehead. Her voice took on a dreamy air, as if she was lost in a haze. "It was as if... as if you were healing me with your touch."

Dr. Straw's eyes narrowed. "Are you a nurse?" he asked me.

Tension coiled around my spine. "I was a healer among my people."

Though the doctor chuckled, his eyes showed no amusement. "Herbals and home remedies, I presume?"

"Aye," I answered, preferring to omit the part about the magic. "Something of the sort."

"Well, this is America, where we use real science to heal the sick." There was no mistaking the venomous tone in Dr. Straw's voice.

Abby groaned. "Do I get to go home or what?"

The doctor's features hardened. "I will have a nurse bring the discharge paperwork." He waved a dismissive hand. "Your old world healer can look after you, but when your head becomes infected, you will have only yourself and your healer to blame."

I swallowed the tension that twisted a knot in my throat. Hatred and anger rolled off the man in sickening waves. I was relieved when he stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.

Abby folded her arms as she plopped down on her bed. "I don't trust that snake in the grass."

"Abby!" Mrs. Jenkens wagged a finger at her granddaughter. "Mind your tongue."

But Abby's instincts were sharp. The man was a snake, and I knew if there was to be trouble in this town called Galveston, Dr. Straw would be the one leading the mob.